Drabbles (sort of)
by OakeX
Summary: I actually have no idea what to put for a summary, since the title sort of sucks too. Basically, if you like drabbles, help out a stranger on the internet and read mine.
1. Mostly or all dialogue

**So I've decided to retry my hand at drabble-writing, since my last ones were absolute rubbish. These ones aren't really drabbles, though, because some of them are less than 100 words, but none of them are over 100 words, so I can still practise being concise.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Sisters Grimm.**

* * *

 ** _Lamp_**

"Hey look, it's one of those old oil lamps!"

"Hm, yeah, great. Keep looking, Daphne."

"It's sorta dirty though. There's this black smudge on the side. Let me see if I can rub it off..."

"Go ahead."

 _..._

 _Hold on. Old oil lamp. Black smudge. Rub it off... Oh crap!_ "Wait, Daphne, don't!"

"Don't what?"

 _Too late!_ "Daphne, get down!"

...

...

"Sabrina, calm down. Nothing happened."

"Wait what?"

"Nothing happened. No evil genie. It's just a normal oil lamp."

"Oh. Oh, ok then."

"Hey, Grimm, look, I found this cool lamp thing! There's this weird black patch though..."

"Wait, Puck, no!"

 _BOOM!_

* * *

 ** _Drawing_**

"Have you seen this man around, miss?"

"Um... No I don't think so, officer."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, pretty sure."

"Hm. Just as well, he's a dangerous character. If you do see him, miss, please call the police immediately."

"Of course, officer. Good luck with your search."

"Thank you, miss."

...

"That police artist needs to be fired. My nose is not that big."

"Puck! What the hell did you do?!"

* * *

 ** _Health_**

"Oh, Puck, your arm! _Lieblings_ , what happened?"

"Puck was being an absolute idiot, that's what."

"I was not!"

"You called a freaking dragon a crybaby!"

"He was one! Not my fault he was being so weak!"

"Look at your arm, Puck! I don't think the dragon's the weak one!"

* * *

 ** _Revenge_**

 _Kill him_ , a cold voice whispers in her head.

"Are you going to shoot me, Marshmallow?"

"Don't call me that."

"Ooh, touchy."

"This isn't a game, Puck!"

"Seems like one to me."

 _Bang!_

"Good missing."

"How could you kill her, Puck? She loved you!"

His smirk flickers. "As she should have."

"She broke up with Bradley for you!"

"I— I had a job. She was it."

"What, seduce her then kill her?"

In the moonlight, his smile seems almost strained. "Got it in one, Marshmallow."

 _Bang!_

"Argh!

...I'll be damned, Marshmallow, you actually got me—"

 _Bang! Bang! Bang!_

* * *

 ** _Harmony_**

...

 _Ah, this is nice_.

...

 _Peace and quiet, it's a new feeling. I like it._

...

 _No one's around to annoy me, or piss me off. I can just lie here and not care about anything_.

...

 _Oh, who am I kidding._

"Puck, get your ass down here and blow something up!"

"Took you long enough!"

* * *

 **The name sucks, I know. I couldn't be stuffed thinking of a proper name right now, so if one hits me I'll change it. If you have any words you'd like me to do, I'd be happy to do them. Thanks for reading.**


	2. No dialogue

**I'm a terrible updater, I know. See, this is why I don't write multi-chaptered fics. Be glad.**

 **So Curlscat had an absolutely brilliant idea in her review of the last chapter, which was that I theme my chapters. So the theme for the last chapter was that they were mostly/all dialogue, so if you review see if you can guess this one.**

* * *

 _ **Gardening (GriffinGirl8655)**_

Even though a little part of him still itches for the thrill of travel, Jake has finally found something that keeps him rooted in one place. That is, gardening. He finds it fun, despite the lack of magic, and it's oddly cathartic in a way. A reminder of sorts that even someone who's caused so much death can still make life blossom.

Of course, he has a rose too. It grows in a pot in his bedroom, pure white. But he grows a Jacob's-ladder beside it as well. So at least, in one way, he can be with her.

* * *

 _ **Rain**_

There is no better place to dance than in the rain, Daphne thinks. It's fun (if not unhealthy) to her, and she can think of no better way of spending her dreary Saturday afternoon than by prancing in puddles.

It does, of course, mean that she drinks more Robitussin than the entire family combined, but she thinks it's worth it.

* * *

 _ **Tears (of joy and pain)**_

Because he's a man, goddamit!, and men don't cry! Especially not this one, The Trickster King!, he doesn't cry— He doesn't! He- he doesn't...

Nevertheless that's what happening, as he watches the girl he loves say _I do_ to the man she loves (Brandon or something), and there's this beautiful smile on her face. Tears run down his face, and he can feel his heart breaking apart and stitching itself back together at the same time.

* * *

 _ **Cadaver**_

Cadaver. What an ugly word. It's disgustingly scientific, and hideous to the ear, and all it does is conjure up images of maggots and empty eye sockets. It's revolting. 'Corpse' would be a better term. Or 'body' even. Or 'carcass'. Or-or 'remains'. 'Skeleton'. 'Stiff'! Or freaking— bloody flesh vessel even!

Anything which doesn't have 'Sabrina's' in front of it.

* * *

 _ **Height**_

It's rather awkward when they kiss, to be honest. Probably because he's shooting upwards like a starter gun's cap, she's still as short as ever (she blames malnutrition), and pretty soon there's about a head's difference between her nose and his. When it gets _very_ annoying is when he wants to make out, and the only way he can is if he fetches a stool first.

Eventually they solve it, because now he just sits down and she climbs onto his lap. It means that when they do everyone leaves the room, but at least those two are enjoying themselves.

* * *

 **God, I hate how FFN doesn't save bolding anymore. It's really annoying, aesthetically. But, I hope you liked this chapter. If you have any prompts/theme ideas I'd be happy to hear them. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Light or casual

**It has been ages since I last updated this story. This is why I'd be bad at multi-chaptered fics.**

* * *

 _ **Cats (GriffinGirl8655)**_

Despite his somewhat stern countenance, Canis actually harbours a big soft spot for cats (which is just a little ironic). Red learns this when she's walking in the park and comes across him petting a stray tabby.

"Aren't you adorable?" he coos, fondling its ears.

It purrs.

"You remind me of a cat I had when I was a child," he continues. "She had stripes too."

 _Meow!_

"Aw. I think I'll take you home. I'm sure Relda won't mind." He scoops it up gently.

Smiling, Red quickly backtracks.

She'll give her dad time to put his mask back on.

* * *

 _ **Endeavour**_

"You know what day it is?!"

She sighs. "What, Puck?"

"It's the day for a treasure hunt!"

 _Oh god_ , she thinks.

...

"That was... surprisingly fun."

"I know, right?"

"I mean, normally your stupid adventures end up with us getting captured or injured or stuck in a ditch somewhere, but you haven't done bad, Puck."

"Why thank you."

She looks out the window. "Just a question."

"Hm?"

"Where are we?"

"You know, I was just wondering that myself..."

* * *

 _ **Traffic**_

"I told you we should have left earlier," she grumbles.

"I know."

He fidgets uncomfortably in his seat, looking dismally out at the rows of cars stretched out beside, behind, and in front of him.

His eyes slide right.

He sees his girlfriend in her short-sleeve t-shirt, fingers splayed out on the dashboard and blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail.

His teenage hormones bound forward.

"Well at least," he says, and loops an arm around her shoulders, "we have some ways to entertain ourselves."

* * *

 _ **Dandelions**_

"You know," Daphne grins, "if you make a wish and blow on the dandelion, it'll come true."

He snorts. "Superstition and charlatan's words, that's what it is."

"Well... do it anyway."

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"please...?"

He looks up at her (when did she get so tall?), and his expression softens. "Oh alright." Brusquely, he plucks one from the field and blows on it.

Daphne grins. "Thanks." She pecks him on the cheek. "Let's go now."

He doesn't move. His face turns beet-red.

 _Maybe_ , he thinks, _these wishes aren't so bad after all._

* * *

 _ **Sugar**_

"I bet I could cook so much better than you!"

"Right."

"I would!"

"Mhm."

"I'll prove it! I'll make a cake! Right now."

"Go ahead."

...

"I don't believe it, Puck. You actually made a cake."

"That's right."

"Well, let's try it."

"...It can't have been that bad."

"Water. Water!"

"Let me try i— Jesus Christ!"

"Puck, did you put in sugar or salt?!"

"I... do not know."

* * *

 **Not my best, I know. I tried, but it's late, and I'm tired, but I also kind of wanted to write, so I figured I'd just write a few drabbles. Hope you liked it.**


	4. Death or tragedy

**Hey, guys. Man, I'm bad at updating. How long's it been, two months? Cheers, you guys, for continuing to read despite my terrible tendency to not update.**

 **I enjoyed writing these, and you'll probably understand why as you keep reading.**

 **Oh, crud, Guest reviewer replies. I knew I was forgetting something:**

 **Guest (Sep 5): I had to resist the very strong urge of just getting one of them involved in a car crash suddenly. But the theme was 'All light/casual', so I couldn't kill them. Funny you should mention that though.**

* * *

 _ **Titanic**_

She thinks she might be crying (her face certainly seems wet) but she's not sure because right now she can't feel much of anything _except_ for a small hand clenched into hers. It's her sister's, and it's ice-cold.

Oh, God.

She can't breathe.

She can't think.

She's stuck in this hell, and all she can do is heave for breath, as saltwater bleeds from her eyes, and blood drips from the titanic hole in her heart.

* * *

 _ **Earplugs**_

She remembers these things. He had used them, a couple months ago, when he had made a snowman out of mud and put these damn little pink things in as eyes.

She had, of course, never used them again after.

Well, even if they weren't crusted with mud, she'll never use them again, 'cause she doesn't need to. He's bloody _dead_ , and she collapses into the bed that was once so warm and is now cold like ice, too big, and listens... to the intense silence of her two-people apartment.

* * *

 _ **Legend**_

She may not have been a proper fairytale character, heck she still aged, but to him she was nothing short of a legend. She may not have had a king to serve under, or a magic wand she found in a lake, but when Puck looks at the polished casket and fights back tears, he realises that she was his fairytale.

She was the one who took him in, and gave him food, and gave him love, and taught him that mothers didn't have to be the women who conceived you.

 _I love you_ , he whispers.

He lets himself cry.

* * *

 _ **Fiery colours**_

Her eyes burn at him, like smouldering coals, and under the haze of red that clouds his vision he can see hate boiling within her.

Dotted on her arms are the sooty-black-burns of bruises, and beading on her snarling lips is a bright splash of blood.

He knows he doesn't look much better. His breath is ragged in his lungs. His chest throbs with pain.

"I hate you," she hisses at him.

Even to him, his laugh is condescending. It's his kingly laugh, the laugh he once used to humiliate peasants. "And I you."

Sabrina roars, and they're fighting again.

* * *

 _ **Beauty**_

"And how would you describe her?"

The man smiles. "She... She was beautiful."

"Continue."

"That's it."

An eyebrow raises. "That's it? Nothing more?"

"That's it. She was... beautiful, so beautiful... You have no idea." He looks out the window, towards the river which he had thrown his ring in. "In every sense of the word, in every aspect, she was beautiful." He pulls out a hip flask and swigs deeply from it.

"I'm sorry, sir, we don't allow alcohol in here."

"Huh? Oh, this isn't alcohol."

"What is it?"

The man's smile flickers. "It's coffee."

* * *

 **Do you guys get the last one? I was a bit sketchy over it, like whether you guys would get it or not, but I figured 'What the heck I can just explain it if no one does.' Just leave a review if you don't get it, and I'll PM you.**


	5. Inner monologue

**Heh, these are fun to do.**

 **I want to do a oneshot using this kind of style but I don't think it'd work very well outside of a drabble. At the very least, it'd be really hard to do well.**

* * *

 _ **Island**_

Stupid Puck, getting us stranded on this stupid island, you'd think someone who'd been flying for over four thousand years would know how to do it _safely_ but nooo, no he's so clever and so smart he can _apparently_ do divebombs but NOT BLOODY TURN AND NOT HIT TREES PUCK YOU GODDAMN IDIOT

you better not die on me

* * *

 _ **Dagger**_

Ooh this dagger's sharp, ooh it does not feel nice sticking inside of me, I wonder if I can pull it out... ow ow nope leaving it in there.

Gosh, looks like _I'm_ going to die.

You'd think thirty years of playing around with magic would mean you'd be able to heal a stupid little life-threatening cut like this but nope, only time I need it and my stupid coat's lying at the bottom of a cliff.

...

but at least I'll get to see Briar again soon.

And dad.

* * *

 _ **Lost**_

I am mildly alarmed by the fact that I have no bloody clue where I am but at least someone's with me, even if the fact that they're holding my hand _is_ very distracting and making it hard for me to concentrate...

Hey, there's an ash tree.

...Looks awfully familiar

Wasn't I made of ash wood...?

...Good god, was that the tree I was made from?

...Oh God what if it was?

Nononono don't be stupid, you're being silly...

...

Is this what being drunk feels like?

Last time I ever drink something Puck gives me.

* * *

 _ **Car accident**_

Man, look at that, holy shit. Full-on collision, just SKREEEE!

That's kind of awesome.

Shame about that one car, though, nice brand.

Though it's a pretty gross colour... I wonder if I could have the pixies find me paint that colour... Could spatter it all over Grimm...

That other car, though, looks like it got completely totalled pre-crash. What a hunk of junk.

...Wait a minute...

...Looks like our car...

Who's that at the wheel?

Is that—

Oh my God, GRANNY!

* * *

 _ **Kiss**_

It's so hot in here why is it so hot in here it was pretty cold a minute ago.

Is it 'cause I'm kissing Grimm?

Nah.

Oh maybe, actually, she's getting really red-faced too.

Mmm...

She's a pretty good kisser. Though what would I know, I've never kissed a girl before, but this is nice.

Except for her nose, it's kind of getting in the way.

And what am I meant to do with my tongue? Do I just leave it here? Seems kind of strange.

This is all very confusing. But still pretty nice.

* * *

 **I know, it's cheap having two Puck ones, but I figured I needed a Puckabrina one which wasn't morbid, so I tossed him in. Next chapter will probably be all Mustardseed, cause I keep forgetting how cool he is.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm not even going to look at when I last updated this, I have too much pride. But I'm willing to bet it was ages ago.**

* * *

 _ **Angel**_

"Kill me now."

"I don't think I really want to do that."

Mustardseed groans. "Ugghhhh, my love, you have no idea how terrible it is entertaining whiny royals all day."

"I think I have some idea."

He glares at her.

She smiles sweetly back.

He studies her. "When we were courting, do you know what my mother used to call you?"

"Peaseblossom?"

"Apart from that."

"Well, no."

"She used to call you Faerie's little angel."

She laughs. "Aw. I knew she was an old sweetie."

His voice is deadpan. "Evidently, she could not have been more wrong."

* * *

 _ **Cigarette**_

He shouldn't be smoking these, he knows. He must have read thousands of articles from the human world, detailing the effects of tar on the lungs, and the rising risk of tumour formation in smokers as compared to non-smokers. But he can't help himself. He needs the buzz, and even though sucking in this sooty air makes him feel like he's suffering an asthma attack, the heady swirl of drugs at least allows him to breathe a little easier.

What time is it. Christ, another meeting with the Environmental Agency.

If the nicotine doesn't kill him, this job certainly will.

* * *

 _ **Tea cup**_

When his mother had finally died, she had bequeathed to him, among a plethora of other ancient garbage, an antique tea set. It was the only thing he had liked. Because within this tea set was a special tea cup, pristine except for a chip on the edge. The crack was caused when he had taken a sip of too-hot tea, and, in his haste to move the cup from his mouth, cracked it on his front teeth. It was the only time he had seen her laugh, ever since her son was lost, and her husband was murdered.

* * *

 _ **Tissue**_

He delicately removes a tissue from the box nearby, wipes his hands, and blows his nose. Then, he takes another tissue out, rolls something around in his mouth, spits a tooth out, and gently dabs at the bleeding part of his mouth.

"Next time you come to insult the King of Faerie," Mustardseed says to the whimpering heap on the floor "leave his 'bawdy whore' of a mother out of it." His words harden into ice. "Or I will break your teeth out onto my desk."

He holds the door open. "Get the hell out of my office."

* * *

 _ **Puck Jr.**_

"You named your dog after me?"

"I did."

"Huh."

"You sound surprised."

"I _am_ surprised."

"Why?"

"Well, I knew you thought I was the best, but even I didn't expect this level of admiration, Mustardseed."

"Oh. No no no, I did not name my dog _Puck Jr._ out of affection."

"Then why?"

"Oh, you'll love why."

"Brighten my day."

"Well, you see, this dog is a female."

"Yeah...?"

"Which means that this dog is like you."

"...How?"

"Because you're both bit—"

"Puck! How've you been?"

* * *

 **I even cut off at the swearing point. Aren't I such a kind person?**


End file.
